Harry Potter and the Justice Lords
by Baronvonblack
Summary: Only through the fires of opposition and hate can those chosen realise the truth: the world is flawed and twisted. And so, in the wizarding world's darkest hour, heroes will come - not the heroes they want, but those they need.
1. Chapter 1

On the eighth year of the official beginning of the Second Wizarding War (scholars have debated greatly on the actual date of the true resurrection of Lord Voldemort), there was a riot at Azkaban prison.

Perhaps the reader may be surprised, as the word deliberately stated was 'riot', not 'breakout', or frequently used in conjunction with that word over the years, 'mass', to create 'mass breakout'. Since the Dementors, foul creatures of the night and guards of the horrific prison, had abandoned their positions to join Lord Voldemort's reign of terror, the security at Azkaban had been a joke. Aurors assigned to Azkaban were usually considered the weakest or the most pitiful – and it was common knowledge that requesting transfer to the prison essentially meant signing your own death wish. Nevertheless, it made a good dumping ground for the useless, those who couldn't be slotted to die anywhere else. Aurors were getting killed in the bunches – Voldemort's infamy had rapidly spread, his masked Death Eaters seemed undefeatable as they rolled out in a relentless onslaught, crushing all before them. It was the wizarding world's darkest hour – Dumbledore, the unofficial leader of the light, could do nothing without compromising his position of power within the Ministry as Fudge incompetently managed the war efforts. And the chosen one, Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, was soon known as the boy-who-murdered.

Yes indeed – Harry Potter was convicted of the torture and murder of one Dolores Umbridge.

But his destiny was not just to rot away the rest of his life in Azkaban. Few knew how he became what he became and many theories have been presented, from the outlandish to the reasonable. Some believe Merlin himself came through an alternate dimension, teaching the boy much of his secret arts. Others believed that the child, when he received that famous scar also received many of Voldemort's powers and knowledge and it took that complete isolation from society for him to unlock his latent talents. Still others believed that an inmate in a cell next to him, deemed insane, was in fact a radical, intelligent revolutionary who taught him a great many things.

It does not matter. All that matters is that it all started with a riot.

-------

Screams and chants echoed through the filthy, bleak corridors of Azkaban prison. The walls were stained with blood, pipes, blocks of wood and other crude blunt instruments lay strewn across the ground as the prisoners' yells could be heard. Violent tremors shook the ground.

Alone in his cell, a young man sat in a calm meditative position, his eyes closed as he centred himself. At a glance, one would call him disheveled and anorexic, dressed in horrible, torn rags. But that was merely a simple illusion. When one stepped into the cell, the illusion would be lifted as they would see that the young man was surprisingly healthy – his muscles were taut and tense, as if a strange energy coursed through them. He was slender, but extremely fit and muscular – not that bodybuilding type of muscular though. The type of muscular that was forged through hours, days, months of intensive training, not through doing a few heavy weights and drinking a couple of protein shakes. The kind of muscularity that was true strength – a unity between mental, physical and emotional states of being, a unity that few achieved in their lifetimes.

The young man's eyes snapped open to reveal startlingly green emerald eyes. Once a long time ago, so long ago it seemed like a lifetime, those eyes shined with warmth, kindness and naiveté. Now, instead those green eyes blazed like an inferno, a fiery determination and ambition, the type of which would destroy any obstacle in the way to achieve a goal.

He stood up, an aura of power surrounding him as he purposefully strode through these blood-stained corridors. His muscles were tense, they needed release, a distraction, a battle, something which required action!

No – he had waited too long for this moment. He could wait a bit longer.

The prisoners were rioting in one of the main assembly halls. Their chants were deafening as they screamed for blood, surrounding a pitiful-looking group of Aurors as they desperately fired off stunners left right and centre. Yet even then they could not hold out against them forever.

Harry stepped onto a chair even as he spoke. "Stop!"

He spoke quietly, yet his voice seemed to echo throughout the assembly hall, vibrating off every wall as the prisoners turned around in shock to stare at him.

Confusion, anger, desperation, fear, disgust, impatience. Harry looked down on them with pity, not revulsion.

"Animals. Condemned to die." It was best to keep this simple. "That is how the world views you – am I wrong?"

The prisoners were silent.

"Yet you are not all animals. Some were condemned unjustly. Others acted in the heat of the moment, where emotions overwhelm common sense. Still others believe that what they did was good and great. Tell me – do you support Lord Voldemort?"

It was only several inmates who shuddered, but there was more or less a general agreement between the prisoners.

"Why do you still serve him? What draws you to him? His power? His vision? His dominance over life? I tell you nothing but truth – it is all lies. Lord Voldemort is nothing but a farce. A cowardly, bullied half-blood who tries to assert himself through the dominance of muggles, muggleborn and half-bloods like himself. He cares nothing for you."

"That's a lie!" One brave inmate screamed. "The Dark Lord stands for the vision of the whole magical world! All will bow before him – with US at his side!"

There was a general consensus among the prisoners before Harry shook his head – not in anger, but in sadness. A feigned sadness that was acted out to perfection. "No, my friends. If what you say is true – then why did he abandon you?"

Once again, they were silent.

"Yes. Why did he risk his forces to repeatedly rescue other Death Eaters, when he left you to rot in here? What makes them different? Some of them, like Lucius Malfoy, feigned Imperious when he was defeated. Are they truly loyal to your 'cause'? Why did he abandon you? Why, my friends, did he abandon you? Again I speak the truth – he never loved you and never will love you. He will only use you – then cast you away like a piece of rubbish." Harry had clearly been growing more and more agitated, and finally his powerful voice roared throughout the hall. "IS THAT HOW YOU WANT TO BE TREATED?! ARE YOU JUST PIECES OF RUBBISH TO BE THROWN OUT?"  
A powerful reply of disagreement was shouted as Harry raised his arms.

"Then JOIN ME! This island is desolate and abandoned. We'll cut it off! We'll make a new society! Then once we have done this, we'll spread out into the world and change it to OUR OWN VISION!"

The cries had escalated to a fever pitch "Potter, Potter, Potter…" – it was so loud that to Harry's sensitive ears it was deafening, yet he could not compromise his aura of power. He had them eating out of the palm of his hand now. They were all sick and tired of this place, so sick and tired that they would leave the handling of leadership to him.

"But tonight we will not," Harry spoke as he raised his arm – the crowd immediately hushed at this gesture. "Tomorrow we will forge this island into something new, something more…but tonight, we will FEAST AND DANCE! Let the blood-stained walls of this slime pit thunder with exultation and joy! For we are FREE!!"

Harry turned around and head back, but not to his own cell – there was nothing in there that could be of any use to him anymore. Instead, he head to the elevator.

The ground was indeed thundering under his feet as he walked. He had done it – he released the breath he had been holding. He had actually spoken and turned the prisoners to his side.

"Nice speech."

Quick as lightning Harry spun around, about to shift into a fighting stance before his eyes widened ever so imperceptibly before returning to a neutral gaze. "Ah, Miss Greengrass. I was unaware that you were a fellow inmate."

Her appearance was indeed ghastly. Her skin was shockingly pale, but still retained some of its delicacy from her high upbringing. Her hair was long and messy, dull and lifeless, as was her face, which was a ghost of its normal beauty – her eyes were dark and shadowed, yet still retained some life.

Daphne smiled, but it was a cold smile, devoid of any life. "You, Potter, are unaware of anything. Or should be. Eight years in here with a mind as fragile as yours – you should be insane."

"The Dementor attacks only made me stronger. Besides, they disappeared to join their master in the first year of my stay. And what of you?"

"That speech was devoid of any substance, yet you still managed to turn even some of the Dark Lord's most fervent devotees."

Harry shrugged, not unaware of her dodging his question. "I merely showed them the truth. Shall we?"

The two of them got into the elevator, as Harry pressed the button for the highest floor. There was a quiet hum as the doors closed and they moved up.

"So is it true?" Daphne asked.

"Is what true?" Harry was deep in his thoughts; he didn't turn to acknowledge her.

"You know what I mean. The whole wizarding world roared out in protest when you were sentenced. You were the chosen one – the one who had revealed the Dark Lord to the world. You were Dumbledore's golden boy, the symbol of the light, bearer of the hopes of millions. Nobody believed it, except Fudge and his cronies, who were eager to get you – you did prove him wrong after all."

"Humph. So what?"

She leaned in. "So I want to know it. You were set up, weren't you? You're innocent – that's why you were thrown into Azkaban without a trial."

The tension in the air turned extremely thick, hanging like a heavy cloud of darkness around them. Harry turned around, his face now a blank, unreadable mask, emerald eyes reverting to the glazed and cold look he reserved when pretending to be brain dead in his first years at the prison.

"You are mistaken," he told her quietly. "They threw me in without a trial because I refused Veritaserum. I did it – I'm guilty."

-------

The young woman crept quickly and rapidly across the plains, eyes alert and watchful as her silenced feet hurried carried her. She paused for a moment as she got to the top of the hill, looking up at the moonlight.

It was a quiet night, and a night perfect for her needs. The full moon hung there, in all its glory, without being obscured by clouds or smoke, to dimly illuminate the environment. But to the eyes of the young woman, accustomed even to complete darkness, it could have been as clear as day.

Below her, contrasted greatly to the darkness, were the small enchanted fires of a wizard camp. A large one – but not just any wizard camp. A Death Eater gathering point.

She had been tracking this place for months. Performing reconnaissance in know Death Eater meeting places, creeping through mud and dirt on her belly to avoid detection in extremely warded areas wearing a hastily constructed camouflage net mixed with sticks, leaves and branches, and now finally she was here.

The woman checked all her equipment – she was wearing muggle clothing as she could not afford any specialized armour, and would rather not steal any as she didn't want to risk compromising herself. She was after all a highly wanted woman. It was all in place and she was ready. Pulling a pepper-up potion from her belt, she gulped in one shot, feeling her energy replenish before she pulled her wand from its holster.

Casting the disillusionment spell silently and wordlessly, she rapidly ran in, wand up at the ready.

Several groups of Death Eaters were gathered around an enchanted fire, attempting to warm themselves. It was a cold night. She would definitely make them feel the heat.

With a deft flick of her wand, the woman overrode the safety charms on the enchanted fire and within moments had complete control of it. Another flick brought it out of its limits as the bastards gave yells of surprise.

Grimly she twisted her hand and shifted the shape into a large dragon as it overwhelmed the Death Eaters, setting their robes on fire. They tried to use their wands to extinguish it, but it was enchanted fire – a simple water charm couldn't stop it.

The woman twirled her wand, sending the fire throughout the camp, looping it around several times before making it burst in a massive magical explosion. Once this was over, she struck.

While disillusioned, the woman lunged into her first Death Eater, grabbing him by the throat to stifle off any attempts to call for help, slamming him into a tent wall. She raised him high above her head, her grip tightening before a sickening 'snap' was heard and the body tossed aside.

Unfortunately she was not completely invisible while disillusioned – she spun around as a Death Eater called for help, looking straight at her as he fumbled to grab his wand.

Sloppy. This bozo was probably a rookie, as his wand was not within easy reach.

As she reappeared, the Death Eater gave off a girlish squeal at the sight of her. "It's GINEVRA WEASLEY!" he screeched, turning around and running as fast as he could.

"_Incarcerous," _Ginny intoned coldly, binding the Death Eater as he stumbled and fell.

Four Death Eaters came running at her, a familiar green light already growing on their wands as they were halfway through the incantation. _"Avada…"_

"_FIENDFYRE!" _The witch roared as a powerful flaming phoenix burst forth out of her wand – it gave a hellish screech as it shot through the Death Eaters, burning them as their bodies blackened into small, smoldering crisps.

She quickly cancelled it before running through the camp, firing spells left, right and centre. An organ shredder, bone breaker, another organ shredder and a decapitation curse…

Shit! Ginny ducked down as she narrowly evaded a powerful slashing hex, but gave a small grunt as it ripped through her right shoulder. It was only a scratch, she could ignore it for now.

"_Nex Fulsi!" _Ginny yelled as a thin beam of concentrated magical energy fired, going straight through the bodies of several more Death Eaters and coming out, continuing on until it imploded a second later.

She fought like the seasoned veteran she was, dodging and weaving with the grace of a dancer and the brutality of a powerful warrior, spells being sent almost instinctively as opponents fell around her like dominoes.

Yet even a witch like Ginny was only human. Several curses managed to nick her in the arms, across her waist and her thigh, but she forced herself to keep going. Even so, her body could feel the strain of keeping this up – her magical reserves were being sapped as she continued the flow of magic into her wand and out as spells of powerful destructive capabilities.

Sweat adorned her face and body as Ginny ducked behind a burning tent, panting heavily; she hastily pulled another pepper-up potion from her belt and downed it, hoping it would give her enough energy to finish this and go home.

As the potion took effect, Ginny felt vitality returning to her limbs as she jumped out – this time fighting much more strategically.

A group of Death Eaters rapidly approached her from the other side. Ginny whipped out her wand, blasting the supports off one of the tents as it fell forward, crushing them. She spun around, sending several _Incendios _at places which had not caught fire or hadn't caught fire quickly enough – soon the whole place was in flames.

Looking around, Ginny was satisfied with her handiwork as she began to walk off.

Around her, the whole camp had been turned into a mass funeral pyre of wood, fire and bodies. Many people were screaming as they were trapped underneath burning wreckage, and others were writhing around in unbearable agony, their bodies burning ever so slowly…

-------

**A week later**

"The previous overseer of this fortress must have had fine taste indeed," Harry observed as he poured himself and Daphne a glass of Dom Perignon '54. "And exceedingly wealthy. These aren't cheap…" he handed her a glass, "so savor each taste."

Daphne was definitely looking much healthier. Her hair was much smoother and less messy, and some vitality and health had returned to her face. She was dressed in a plain set of witches' robes. "As should you."

"I will. Now we toast – to the future." They clinked glasses and drank, slowly, as the drink required.

Harry smiled, rolling the liquid around in his mouth. "Oh, it isn't a cheap fake after all! Only a genuine Dom Perignon could perfect that delightful sparkle. Savor it indeed. We have, after all, deserved it."

They were sitting in their temporary abode on the plains of Azkaban Prison as the prisoners outside the window were constructing places to live. It would be small, at first, but soon Harry would find them wives and more wands than the ones in the confiscated section, as well as plants, fruit and things like that. It would be a complete self-sustaining colony – above them was the looming fortress of Azkaban.

Harry had, for the past days, while everyone had been working, cleaning out the fortress with Daphne's help, who was still a capable witch even after her two years' stay. The cells were being stripped of their metal and materials, and once these were thoroughly cleaned they would be able to be used for other, more useful things. The fortress would be converted into his personal stronghold, a place of rest, defense and meditation as he planned everything out.

"Why?" Daphne asked as she sipped the drink. "Why did you kill her?"

"As to your comment a week ago – yes, indeed, a fervent devotee could not turn after a simple speech such as that. In those cases, a strong compulsion charm works – especially if the person's mind is ravaged and weak from the onslaught of Dementors and completely isolated from human contact," Harry said as he walked into the next room. "I ordered something – it's a very specialized suit which I had begun designing even before my stay in Azkaban."

"Was it all planned out? Did you deliberately kill her, knowing that you'd go to Azkaban?! Did you start the riot? Did you isolate yourself from the world to train?" Daphne demanded.

"The future is never certain, Miss Greengrass. We may make precautions, but despite all our skills, all races are too proud to admit how much they depend on luck and chance."

"Don't dodge the question – TELL ME! Why did you seek out and kill Professor Umbridge?!"

"In return for this answer, I will get to ask you a question. Is that a fair trade?" Without letting her answer, he walked out, dressed in the new suit.

Daphne gasped. It was a sleek, dark steely gray suit that was perfectly sculpted and molded to Harry's body, reminding her of many ancient Greek statues and classical Roman armour. Silver gauntlets shined in the dim light, as a decorative 'M' adorned his chest. A long cape hung out behind him.

"I killed Dolores Umbridge as an object lesson. To show the people of society what their world had become, what it would keep becoming unless we resolved it. To answer your question, Miss Greengrass, I killed Dolores Umbridge to show a solution, the only solution. The only way we can deal with scum and the dead flesh of society – by cutting it off with absolute finality."

"But Harry…"

"That name is lost, forever, in the mists of time. The person that stands before you is not Harry Potter." The warrior before her raised a sleek black domino mask to his face, putting it on as the mask automatically shifted to mold itself to the lines of his face. "I am Lord Majestic. First of the Justice Lords, future overlords of this planet. Revolutionary, radical, and bringer of eternal peace to this forsaken Earth."


	2. Chapter 2

"Today is a momentous event," Lord Majestic announced as he stood on an elevated platform, facing the fairly sized population of former Azkaban prisoners. In his hand was a mug of foaming, traditional wizard beer – a powerful concoction, it was rarely drunk except on rare occasions. It turned out that the fortress had a large storeroom of it which had been gathering dust over the past few years, and so Majestic had decided to give it as a gift to the general populace of the island, and sell the remaining bottles to interested merchants. "Today, all work has been finished – today marks the new landmark beginning of Azkaban! Today, let freedom ring from every inch of this island! Let this day be remembered and celebrated every year annually, as Azkaban day, the day which marks the completion of the first village on this island in several thousand years!"

There was a chorus of roaring approval from the prisoners and thunderous applause. Majestic gave a short bow before stepping down, letting the festivities begin.

He was dressed in a silky set of Acromantula robes which he had imported in, as well as other supplies, not all of them entirely legal, but necessary.

"Impressive," Daphne remarked as she met him off-stage before turning around to view the partying. "And you arranged…"

"Many single and divorced women, both old and young, yes," Majestic replied as he pulled a small ring out of the robes, offering it out to Daphne. "Shall we?"

Daphne put her hand on the ring.

"Justice for all," both of them announced as the ring glowed blue. They felt a tug on their navel as the Portkey transported them back into Azkaban Fortress.

They reappeared in the former Administrator's office, which Majestic had stripped down significantly to convert into his own private office and study. It was bare for the most part, except for the desk, bookcase and several scattered chairs, but Majestic was going to order more furniture and decorations in an attempt to make it much more befitting a man of his calibre.

As soon as the two of them appeared, Majestic waved a hand at the beer as it vanished – he transfigured the mug into a small dragon paperweight and placed it on his desk.

"Not drinking? What would your citizens think of that?" Daphne asked.

"They wouldn't think anything," Majestic replied as he sat down, picking up a quill and parchment. "Especially since I spiked the drinks with aphrodisiacs and cheering potions. I believe that most of the women will be staying, permanently – soon we will need to invite several people to conduct marriage ceremonies. The aristocratic nature of wizarding society means that a pregnant, unmarried woman is greeted with much disdain – the father even more. Within the end of the year I will expect our first generation born on Azkaban."

Daphne's eyes darkened at the mention of marriage. Majestic looked up to immediately notice this. "Ah yes, you are angry at the mention of love and marriage. After all, it was for this reason that you were thrown in here unjustly, am I correct?"

"You know the story about my bitch of a sister," Daphne snapped tersely as she turned away from him.

"Indeed, we can all do blind things in pursuit of love," Majestic mused. "And this involves wrongfully imprisoning our own siblings."

"She was _jealous_! Of ME! I hated Draco Malfoy! I couldn't stand his pompousness! She could have him for all I care, just because he kept turning around to stare at me…" Daphne sighed. "Let's not get into this again. I'll get my revenge, but not today."

"You must remain patient. Dobby!"

At the mention of his name, the house elf popped in. "Lord Majestic call Dobby?"

"Yes. Have you and your team finished refurbishments on the…underground floor?"

"Yes Lord Majestic sir!" Dobby nodded his head enthusiastically. "Lord Majestic can go with his Greengrassy anytime!"

"Very good, Dobby. Clean up the rest of the fortress, and then you can take the day off, okay?"

"Lord Majestic is truly a great and brilliant wizard!" Dobby cried in happiness at this. "Dobby is proud to be serving…"

"Yes, I know, Dobby – get to it!" There was no impatience in his voice however.

At this, Dobby disappeared with a 'pop' as he went to work.

"Underground floor?" Daphne questioned.

"Come with me," Majestic said as he walked to the only bookcase in the office towards a bust of Shakespeare. He opened the head, and pressed a button.

There was a hiss as the bookcase slid magically to the side, revealing a glistening white elevator.

"A private elevator? You really are a spoiled prince, aren't you?" Daphne asked sarcastically.

"It has more uses than you could realise. Now are you coming or not?"

A minute later, there was a ding as the elevator doors slid open. Majestic and Daphne walked out into a massive, sprawling underground cavern.

"Azkaban Island is rooted very deeply in the ocean," Majestic explained even as Daphne looked around in awe. "This is directly underneath the Fortress, as you can see, and to the right over there is one of the lowest foundations of it. I accidentally stumbled upon it several years ago, and I have reason to believe that there are several more caverns below – some perhaps even larger and more complex than this one. Several pipes are running through the cavern. It was partially submerged, you see, so I got the house elves to divert the flow of water up to the ground, so that the prisoners get an everlasting supply of fresh, underground spring water. Now it's dry and I can use it for my own devices."

It was mostly empty, except for a ground layering of what appeared to be a hard, granite material over the unstable rocky cavern floor. Majestic's 'power suit', as he labeled it, was prominently displayed in a glass case, illuminated by magic lighting.

"A little empty, I know, but it's a start," Majestic said as he walked up to the glass case, looking thoughtfully at the suit. "I'm getting in more customized equipment next month." He closed his eyes briefly as his hair glowed, turning from raven black to a light, fair blonde. Majestic cropped it short, and when he opened his eyes, they were a sparkling blue.

"If you can change your appearance with some strong glamour charms, then why wear a mask at all?" Daphne questioned as Majestic opened the case and pulled the suit out.

"To taunt the Death Eaters. If they can wear masks, then why can't I?" Majestic replied as he put the suit on and donned the mask, flowing red cape trailing behind him.

It truly was a work of art – Majestic had also added a polished silver belt with things that could be useful in his crusade.

"So what are you going to do? Play hero while we sit around here?" Daphne snapped.

"Not yet. There is still much to accomplish before the economy is stable, but today my people don't need me. I will begin to find potential recruits."

"Like who? Who would you want to recruit?"

Majestic nodded his head at a pinup board beside him before going back into the elevator. "That reminds me. I need a more efficient method of exit. Explore as long as you like before returning." There was a quiet hiss as the elevator doors closed and it went up.

Daphne looked at the pinup board with several newspaper clippings and frowned. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me…"

The newspaper clippings were all of one person and the titles ranged from the crazy to the ridiculous, the most recent being: _**GINEVRA WEASLEY ON THE RAMPAGE! HUGE REWARD OFFERED!**_

-------

It wasn't too difficult to find Ginny – Lord Majestic had a pretty good reading of her aura, so once she had exited any wards blocking it, Majestic would easily be able to track her down.

Lord Majestic levitated in the cold air over a mountain, feeling the icy wind snapping at his face as it blew through his hair and cape. He floated in a meditative pose with his eyes shut, feeling the tendrils of magical energy flowing both within and around him.

He sensed it, just as he had learnt to in his incarceration in Azkaban. Like all other wizards and witches, he had his own internal source of magic, which he artificially channeled using a wand – and the external magic, the magic all around him. In a muggle area the external magic was limited and weak, in a magical area the external magic was virtually limitless – it was like saying the ocean had water, such was its depth and saturation. He could draw freely on the external magic, using his own body as a conduit to do a great amount of things. All things had some form of magic. Because of this, his senses were elevated to a greater level as he 'listened' to the external magic and was able to respond appropriately…

There! Majestic's eyes snapped open as he locked onto Ginny's aura, corkscrewing through the air at rapid speed as he flew towards her location, cape whipping behind him.

She was located not too far away from him, in a small forest. Majestic flew quickly across, getting lower as he came upright to gently hover down beside her, although she didn't notice.

Majestic saw that Ginny had changed significantly. Her once baby face had hardened into the face of a proud warrior, with strong, almost masculine edginess. Those naïve eyes had darkened and become much icier and colder, and her hair was braided tightly into a simple bun to avoid it getting in her eyes. A harsh, thin white scar ran from her left eye down to her cheek.

She was also wounded badly, limping away quickly as she could, leg bleeding profusely.

"Another rampage, huh?" Majestic asked.

In the blink of an eye Ginny had whirled around, wand already in her hand. Majestic noted that she had pivoted on her bleeding leg, and was impressed that she was able to ignore the pain in order to fight in her most comfortable stance. "Don't worry. I'm a friend – I'm not here to hurt you."

"Fuck off!" Ginny snarled menacingly. "Whoever you are, piss off!"

Majestic suddenly heard rustling sounds behind him. "Too late – brace yourself."

Turning around, Lord Majestic saw four Death Eaters rapidly approaching – and not just amateurs. The crusader could tell that these were the real deal, expert trackers and duelists.

And they were able to conceal their shock at seeing someone else with Ginny as well, for they didn't waste time and started to raise their wands, green lights growing on the tips.

Before Ginny could leap out of the way Lord Majestic was already moving, eager to get a chance to unleash some of the aching tension in his muscles.

He leap impossibly high into the air, doing a graceful flip and twirl as the killing curses missed him completely before landing in front of the group. Majestic smashed one Death Eater with a powerful blow, his punch going through the mask as it bent with the force and hitting the face with a sickening crunch. Using the momentum, Majestic spun and delivered a spinning kick that knocked the other Death Eaters off their feet.

Before they could recollect themselves, Majestic conjured sharp blades that protruded from his gleaming silver gauntlets. He twisted them as they sliced through the air and ripped through their bodies, killing three of them instantly and severely wounding one.

"P-Please! Mercy!" The remaining Death Eater begged as he fell pitifully to his knees, blood pouring out of his arm.

Ginny stormed up beside him, her wand ready. "Mercy? MERCY?!" her voice was harsh and bitter. "Tell me then – did you show mercy to the muggles whom you tortured? Did you show mercy to the muggleborns whom you raped? Did you show mercy to the half-bloods whom you killed? TELL ME! Did you show mercy?!"

The Death Eater was struggling to formulate an answer to those powerful words, only ending up with a pathetic squeak as this hardened Death Eater was reduced to a weakling under the full fury of the notorious witch's gaze.

"That's what I thought. Goodbye, Death Eater! _Sec…"_

"WAIT!" Majestic's hand snapped out, stopping her. His gaze looked with Ginny's own. "I have a better idea."

-------

"Nice place," Ginny commented as the two of them returned to Majestic's study. "Could use a few decorations though."

"I'm working on it." Majestic replied. "You need some medical attention."

"I'll be fine. Just tell me what the fuck is going on. Who are you?" She demanded.

"My name is Lord Majestic. You are standing in my personal study of what used to be Azkaban Prison, now my own stronghold. The prisoners, under my leadership, are establishing a new life on this island and will not trouble the outside world anymore."

"Humph." Ginny's hand rested on her wand holster. "They'd better not."

"They won't. I've made sure of it. I've heard a lot about you, Miss Weasley."

"And I've heard nothing about you, Lord Majestic. Who's the person hiding behind the mask, huh?"

"It would be no one you know," Majestic replied as he removed his black mask, "as I am under glamour. However, without them…you may remember who I once was." He closed his eyes as his hair and eyes changed back to normal.

At this marvelous transformation something vaguely human and warm registered in those icy cold eyes. "Harry?" Ginny exclaimed in shock. "Is it you?"

"That name holds nothing for me anymore," Majestic responded. "My true identity is, and always will be, Lord Majestic."

"I don't believe you," Ginny snapped as she raised her wand. "Harry Potter couldn't be this powerful after an eight year stint in Azkaban. This is a set up, isn't it?"

To her surprise, Majestic simply laughed. "You learnt your lesson after Riddle, didn't you?"

Ginny froze.

"No diary will ever get the better of you again. If you see something like it, you'll immediately burn it with Fiendfyre because you know it's a dark object. You've really grown into a powerful witch, especially after this time."

"…Harry?"

"That was the name of my former identity, yes."

"How did you do all this? How did you get all this power and strength? I thought you had died!" Ginny gaped.

Majestic laughed. "I've had eight years Ginny – as you have changed, so have I. However, tell me. What happened in those eight years? What changed?"

Ginny sighed, sitting down in a chair as she took a deep breath. "Do you really want to know?" In that moment, Majestic could truly see the weight of the years crushing down on her.

"Yes." Majestic said quietly. "Tell me everything."

"…Very well. Where to start?" Ginny pondered for a moment. "It began after you were thrown into Azkaban. Everyone was outraged – until they all realised that you actually did kill a person. Despite the fact it was that toad bitch, it didn't change the fact that you actually murdered someone in cold blood."

"What did you think of it?"

Ginny gave a ghost of a smile. "I was shocked – it was a full month after that when I realised something. There was an act that had just been passed, allowing werewolves to become legal guardians of children. Guess who the primary opposition of that act was? Umbridge. Because you killed her, you achieved something, something that was a huge step forward for wizards." Her voice became much quieter. "I realised then that our world was steeped in corruption. Fudge was pathetic; he couldn't beat Voldemort even if he came up to him and offered to surrender. He couldn't do what needed to be done. I began delving into the more…brutal arts. Dark magic, weaponry, hand-to-hand fighting, whatever I could get my hands on I took in, practicing in the Room of Requirement frequently. My grades began plummeting, but the mission was all that mattered, and all that ever would matter. I began skipping classes in order to master a new spell or fighting move. But it wasn't enough. Hogwarts didn't possess the knowledge for inflicting true destruction."

Unconsciously Ginny had gripped her wand tighter.

"Then Dumbledore came. He confronted me, knew what I was doing and attempted to punish me. He even tried Legilimency on me, but however weak my shields were then, I was still able to rebuff him, meddling old bastard. He didn't know the truth – that I had already decided I had learnt all I could from Hogwarts and I would soon be leaving. Before that, I decided on a little going away present… I used your invisibility cloak and map, snuck into the Slytherin Dormitories and set it on fire." Her smile was grim but full of dark amusement.

"Malfoy?"

"Dead. He was the one I killed first – cut his throat with a severing curse in his sleep before taking care of his cronies. Then I set fire and escaped, using a crude Portkey to escape to the Burrow once I went outside the Hogwarts wards. I packed up my things, because I knew mum or dad wouldn't approve. I had already decided then I would never talk to my parents ever again – however much my dad loved me, my mum was smothering me, trying to push me into a 'good pureblood housewife'. Ha!" her laugh was cruel and mocking. "If only she could see me now…"

"What happened then? Did you join the Aurors?"

"Close enough. I snuck into the Ministry. I was sent out several times, but I still managed to steal back the cloak every time and get back in. Helped me practise my sneaking skills when I went in. I poured over all their cases, copying them, as well stealing their tomes and books. It helped to make me smarter, quicker, much more logical. Yet even after all this I was still squeamish. I still was hesitant and forgiving, something which would soon nearly get me killed – and give me this scar you see on my face."

Ginny pointed to the white lined scar as it stuck out proudly on her face like a grisly trophy.

"A veteran Death Eater. I hesitated, briefly, because I realised that it would be better if he was captured. Never once did it occur to me that Voldemort could easily spring him out of Azkaban again. In my hesitation, reinforcements arrived. I was badly wounded, and the Death Eater taunted me and gave me this scar before leaving – he underestimated me, thinking I was still just a young kid, and I still was. I found him, years later, and paid him back appropriately. I etched a deeper scar into his face and let him bleed to death. I've been hunting Death Eaters for as long as you were in this prison."

Majestic considered all this thoughtfully before activating the hidden elevator, stepping in. "Come with me."

They came out several moments later in the underground cavern floor.

Ginny looked around. "Nice. Base of operations?"

"A secret one. I'm showing this to you because I have a proposition."

"What kind of proposition?"

"Join me. I am the first of a new type of hero, the first of a true revolutionary and peacemaker – the Justice Lords. Imagine what we could do if I picked out the strongest, hardest and greatest of us! From this base of operations, we could monitor everything that happens, cutting off Voldemort as he appears and eventually defend him."

"What then? What after Voldemort?"

"Simple. We end all conflicts – permanently." Majestic's statement was blunt and precise.

Ginny considered this for a moment. His offer was certainly tempting. From a strong position like Azkaban Fortress, they would be able to strike at any scum quickly and efficiently, without mess or waste. It would allow her time to nurture and hone her techniques also. "Fine." She raised a gloved hand. "For now. I still don't trust you. You're not the Harry Potter I once knew."

"You will trust me, in time," Majestic replied as he returned the gesture. "And you're right – I'm not Harry Potter anymore. I'm something much greater and better. With this agreement, you will need a mask."

"A mask? What the bloody hell would I need a fucking mask for?" Ginny snapped.

"Why do you think Death Eaters invoke so much fear?" Majestic asked. "The answer is simple – they wear masks. The mask is something more than a concealment of identity. It makes you into something beyond human, something greater and much more powerful yet terrifying and awe-inspiring. It makes you imperishable, undefeatable, and unable to be cast aside."

"What does it make me into then?" Ginny asked.

"A symbol, my dear Miss Weasley. You become a symbol." Majestic smirked.

-------

A/N: Question – what should Ginny's Justice Lord identity be?


	3. Chapter 3

"We've managed to stop several Death Eater attacks now, here, here, and here," Lord Majestic pointed to the relevant places on the enchanted map of the whole world. He tapped it with a finger as it zoomed in on Britain, and then came specifically to the places he was speaking about, marked with several crosses. "People are talking about us. They're talking about how we're getting things done, wondering who we are."

"It's a start," Ginny, now calling herself Nightblade grunted. She was dressed in a feminine suit of highly modified Dragon hide armour, streaked in a dark red paint. At least, most people would assume it to be a dark red paint, as normal people would be too morally self-righteous and squeamish to consider the alternative – that it was really blood, and not paint. Buckled to her belt was a thin rapier in the traditional wizard style with a huge variety of enchantments. Nightblade was a witch who never confined herself to one type of weapon – versatility was the mark of a true warrior.

A facemask was strapped around her head, streaked also in blood. "But it's still not enough. Killing a bunch of rookie Death Eaters won't attract anyone's attention. We need to target the Inner Circle and the prize himself."

"Voldemort," Daphne finished bluntly. She had eventually gotten over her fear of saying the name – what power was there in the name of such a weakling who paled in comparison to someone like Lord Majestic?  
"That's correct," Majestic agreed as he crossed his arms over his armoured torso. "Saving people and killing bad guys is schoolboy antics. If we want to really make a difference, we need more Justice Lords, and we need to target the infrastructure of wizard society from a favorable position. Azkaban is still not strong enough yet, and we need a steady supply of gold. My vault won't be able to keep up with demand forever."

"But in four months, just the two of you have made a serious difference!" Daphne pointed out. "And now that you've started training me, Majestic, it'll only be a matter of time before I join you two."

"We need you to keep watch over things here as well though." Majestic replied. "When the lions are scouring the jungle looking for prey, the safest place to hide is the place they would never think of looking – the lions' den."

"As you said – schoolboy antics." Nightblade scoffed. "Even with your little sign, I doubt Voldemort would be pissing his pants."

The sign which Nightblade was referring to was when she had first joined up. Majestic had hung the body of the Death Eater in the middle of Diagon Alley, his chest bared with the warning cut deep into his skin: 'Justice is swift. Nothing remains – M'

Majestic's gaze was thoughtful. "Nightblade – what remains of our former allies? Who would stand with us if Harry Potter returned?"

"Don't forget, you're still a criminal in the eyes of everyone else," Nightblade said. "Very few remain. My bastard of a former brother, Ron, made his fortune when you left. All he had to do was speak about how you were dark lord material and the money rolled in. Hermione? I'm not sure. She might. She has no love for Death Eaters, I can tell you that."

"She may be too light-oriented for our tastes," Majestic replied.

Nightblade shook her head. "She was one of the few that supported you even after you were put into Azkaban, despite her own horrification. Once the werewolf act had been passed, Hermione realised what a change you had started by removing her, and began openly protesting for you."

"Let me guess," Daphne commented sarcastically. "Another sob story is going to happen?"

"Greengrass," Majestic warned.

"I was only joking!"

Nightblade ignored her jib completely. "The whole school, at least the majority not supporting you, turned on her as well. She was belittled, insulted, scorned, whatever you can think of she experienced it. But everyone has a breaking point – hers came when her parents were killed in a Death Eater attack. Sick of everything she had to go through, she swore never to do magic again and disappeared into the muggle world. There has been no word of her since."

"Is she worth pursuing?"

"Perhaps, and perhaps not. You can never tell with people. Either way, if we have the resources, I suggest that we track her down. There's a good probability that she's still loyal to you, Lord Majestic or Harry Potter."

"If that's the case, I'm giving you an assignment." Lord Majestic instructed. "I want you to track down Hermione. Bring her to us, alive and unharmed, through any means necessary. If you can't accomplish this, at least make her location known."

"Why can't you track down her aura like you did with Ginny?" Daphne asked with a frown.

"It was because I saved her life, magic granted to me that right of seeing her aura," Majestic replied. "Unconsciously I knew it, but could never understand it or use it. I know how to now though. That's why I tracked you down first, not to mention your infamy in the magical world."  
"Wouldn't it be easier if you met with her in person?" Nightblade frowned.

"It would be easier, but I need to start conducting surveillance on the light's activities, now that the economy on Azkaban is beginning to stabilize." Majestic replied. "And for that, I've signed up for the Defense against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts."

Silence.

"What?" Daphne gaped. "You're kidding! You're willing to go back to that hellhole when you've got your own bloody personal ISLAND?!"

"It is necessary," Majestic argued. "Although Nightblade is powerful, this type of covert work is too risky, and besides – I doubt she would be able to control her wand."

Nightblade only grunted in affirmative. "I'd rather be as far away from the Order scum as possible."

"Exactly. I get a direct line into the inner workings of the light." With that, he enlarged three small pocket mirrors from of his belt, handing one to each of the two women and keeping one for himself. "These mirrors are enchanted – to speak to one of us, just say our names. I want to keep our lines of communication open, but use them only in an emergency. Daphne, you know how to work the enchanted map, correct?"

"It'll flash with a sufficient build-up of dark magic," Daphne said with a sigh, as if she had heard this several times before. "I know."

"Correct – in that case you contact me," Majestic affirmed, his cape swirling around as he walked down a flight of steps, deeper into the cavern depths. "In the meantime, I'm going to continue seeing how far this cavern extends, and prepare plans for…extensions."

Daphne groaned as he disappeared into the darkness. "He really is something, isn't he?"

"Of course." Nightblade stated. "Lord Majestic or Harry Potter, his potential is vast and virtually limitless."

"I never imagined he would turn out like this," Daphne replied as she frowned. "I always thought he was the golden celebrity, the 'perfect Gryffindor' – arrogant, reckless, stupid, bold. How did he turn out…?"

"The Harry Potter you saw was only a farce. Lord Majestic was underneath, all along. Our masks are our faces. Our faces are our masks." Nightblade replied cryptically even as she moved away.

"Oh bloody Merlin, are masked vigilantes always this screwed up?" Daphne grumbled to herself even as she stood up also.

-------

The Three Broomsticks were just as Dumbledore remembered, although there was certainly a change. Not a physical change – in that aspect, it would always remain the same. But it was hushed and much quieter than it once used to be. The place had a darker tone to it, a thinly veiled atmosphere of tenseness and thickness that hung like fog. Fewer people were here.

It was just like the First Wizarding War, Dumbledore reflected, only much worse. This time, Fudge's…mismanagement of the war was costing them severely – soon the costs of the war, both in lives and gold, would reach and overtake the costs of the First War.

Dumbledore quietly sipped at his hot chocolate. At the very least, Hogwarts had remained a place of safety and refuge, as it had been for countless years. Under his watch, Voldemort would never attempt an attack on the castle.

"Good evening," a young, fair-haired man walked into the place and towards him, giving him his hand. He was tall and strongly-built, with a clearly defined face and startling blue eyes, with a resolute and hard gaze that told Dumbledore nothing. His body language, although cordial albeit slightly stiff, also did not betray any information. "My name is Alex Macchias. I have an appointment with you for the position of the teaching post for Defense against the Dark Arts."

"Ah, good evening, Mr. Macchias," Dumbledore replied warmly as he gestured to an empty chair. "Please, take a seat. Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

"No thank you, Headmaster," Alex answered as he sat down, handing over a sheet of parchment. "My resume."

Dumbledore looked over it and his eyes nearly bugged out. Perfect NEWT scores across all his subjects? "Most impressive, young man – very impressive, in fact. Why, I've seen only a few people with scores like these. You would be a supremely qualified teacher. Let me ask, what compels you to teach? You would do competently in any occupation, after all."

"I thank you for the flattery, Headmaster, but it's not necessary – there are others who have achieved the same as what I have done," Alex replied. "And to your question, I choose teaching for the enjoyment – I enjoy passing along my knowledge to others. If that is a cliché, then here is a more solid argument – it is a position which is relatively safe from the… events of the outside world."

The sparkle in the Headmaster's eye faded. "Indeed, as harsh as this truth is we must face it. Hogwarts is now the safest location in all of England."  
"Are my reasons enough for you?"

"Yes, however, there is one other thing…I must ask whether you have…"

"The Dark Mark?" Alex pulled up the sleeve on his arm to reveal his forearm was bare. "No. Is that all you require?"

"Yes…" Dumbledore was deep in thought for a moment, before gently, he stretched out with a Legilimency probe, which was quickly rebuffed, to his shock.

"Don't try any of your mind probes, Headmaster," Alex replied much more coldly. "You'll find that they are surprisingly ineffective."

"I…I apologise. Forgive an old man for his paranoia, but I had to make sure." Quick to change the subject, he smiled and stretched out his hand. "However, considering you are the only applicant for the position, and given your number of qualifications, I am proud to give you the teaching position of Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Alex's eyes glinted, with what the Headmaster thought was joy, but in fact they possessed the glint of genius and menace. "I'm sure I'll enjoy educating the students at your fine school."

-------

Nightblade, in all honestly, didn't know where to start. Despite their mutual friendships, Hermione and she had never been close in their time at school. When she had disappeared, Nightblade was in as much confusion as everyone else. What would she be doing now, if not being a witch, after all? Nightblade saw how Hermione devoured books in the library. Despite her parents' deaths, Nightblade felt there was more to Hermione's leaving than that.

"Bloody Merlin!" Neville whipped out his wand. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Relax Neville," Nightblade grunted through a mouthful of an open tin of Auror rations. She shoveled more of the grey concoction into her mouth. "It's only me."

"G-Ginny?" Neville gaped as he lowered his wand. He looked over her new armour in astonishment. "Where did you get that stuff? That's top-of-the-line, fully customized!"

"A mutual friend. Don't worry; I didn't steal any of this. And I go by the name 'Nightblade' – for now, however you may still call me Ginny, if you wish." She swallowed some more of the rations.

"You know Ginny; you could easily heat it up with your wand…"

"Thanks Neville, but I'm used to eating it cold. Is your Gran still angry at you?"

Neville shifted uneasily on his feet. He was no longer the pudgy boy of teen years, now he was quite handsome and well-built – he was significantly taller and heavier in stature. Despite his newfound confidence, bringing up his Gran made him feel uncomfortable. "Yes. She's still furious at me for quitting the Aurors."

"Figures. If nothing else, I support your decision. No sense in wasting your life for a cause you don't believe in."

"What about you?" Neville frowned. "I don't think you and your mother parted on good terms either. You were quite a catch back in…those days. You could have been well-off. What made you decide to fight Death Eaters?"

Nightblade dropped the empty tin in the rubbish bin and turned around to face him. The blood-red sheen of her mask gleamed in the dim light. "Simple, really. To kill Death Eaters. Each and every one of them, make them pay, for what they and their master did to us…to me. But I had to do it my way. Politics were fickle and bored me, so I decided to do so without support of any kind."

"But now? Your mutual friend? I didn't think vigilante had friends."

"They don't, they have allies. And I have an ally with similar views about the wizarding world…well, aside from you, of course." Nightblade rested her gloved hand on the hilt of her rapier. "Never mind. Pleasantries are over. I'm here to talk about Hermione Granger."

Neville frowned. "What about Hermione?"

"Are you still in contact with her, in any shape or form?"

"I'm not in contact with her…"

"You hesitated. So did you receive something from her in any shape or form?"

"I didn't receive anything from her. Rather, I found something." Neville hurriedly turned and went into to his room. A moment later he came back out, carrying a newspaper photo. "I found this quite a while back as I was traversing the muggle world. I didn't quite believe it at first – I told no one because I didn't think anyone would believe me. To be frank Ginny, there's a chance that you'll find it preposterous."

"Voldemort's preposterous," Nightblade replied as she took the newspaper clipping from him, scrutinizing it closely.

The photo was of a group of soldiers – US marines, Nightblade realised. They were marching grimly through a street in some derelict foreign country.

But Nightblade's attention was attracted not to the tall, male soldiers, but to one slightly to the right in a hunched, much more cautious stance, rifle gripped tightly at the ready. The soldier was female and distinctly shorter and slimmer than her male counterparts. Without a helmet, the soldier's bare head was there for the entire world to see, and her gaze was dark and haunted by the horrors of whatever she had to experience.

"You're right. It's preposterous." Nightblade confirmed. "But it's her."

Neville's eyes widened. "Are you sure? I still think there's a chance it could be a coincidence…"

"No. It's definitely her. Her face is harder and less childish, but this is how I imagine Hermione would be fully matured."

The sound of a knife falling onto the floor caused Neville to jump and turn around. When he turned back, to his lack of surprise, he found that Nightblade had vanished, leaving the newspaper photo on the kitchen bench. "Goodbye, Ginny. And good luck, whatever you're up to."

-------

"These are your quarters while you are here as a Professor. You can change the password to whichever you wish by merely tapping on the statue outside and speaking your new password."

Alex took the time to survey his new surroundings before nodding. "Humble and modest. It will do. My thanks for directing me, Headmaster. You may leave now."

"I told you before – you can call me Albus."

"As you wish, Headmaster. I trust you can see yourself out."

Sighing, the older man let himself out as Alex looked around his quarters before waving his hand slightly.

A red mist began to gather over the entire quarters. Several objects glowed green before turning red as the listening and monitoring charms were disabled quickly.

"You haven't changed a bit, Dumbledore." Majestic spat the name like it was a curse before, to his surprise, the communications mirror began buzzing.

Majestic pulled the mirror out of his pocket. "Answer call."

The mirror flashed briefly before the image of Nightblade appeared. "This is Nightblade. I've made progress on Granger's disappearance. It seems that several years ago she was spotted in the US Marine Corps, stationed in some foreign country."

"Truly?" Majestic was impressed. "If that's the case, I'm giving permission for you to go to America. You should be able to find what you're looking for there – talk to the right people. America may be big, but for a witch as powerful as Hermione, it's too difficult to disappear completely. You'll be able to find her."

"Understand. End call."

Majestic smiled to himself as he pocketed the mirror. Everything was proceeding just as he had planned…


End file.
